


The First Taste

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Canon, Future
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-07-04
Updated: 2007-07-04
Packaged: 2018-12-27 11:32:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12080205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: A new discovery of old tastes leaves Justin wanting to know more.





	The First Taste

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

  
Author's notes:

hi! i haven't been here in some time, but I just had this idea for a reaaally short, brief story. I've also been playing with the idea of writing a new series, but I am fresh outta ideas. Does any one have any ideas? I would love to write a new story/series. Thanks a million!

\- brianne

* * *

A discovery of this magnitude didn't happen a lot in their long, wonderful on and off again love affair. Justin knew a lot of insignificant things about Brian; how he liked to make pancakes in his underwear, and why he thought that some things were better left unspoken than said, and then taken back, or not reciprocated, or what the fuck ever he thought would happen. Justin's dalliance into Brian's world was one that happened by accident, it was never on purpose, and on those times when he gained entrance, he found new motives that fueled his desire to fully get into Brian's head and de-program the shit that was put in there by people who should have known better. Their move to NYC was completely unexpected, but inspired Justin and thrilled Brian, both wanting to have some sort of new beginning, free of fucked up family complications and meddling friends who made life that much harder for them. 

Justin, on his third day of unpacking their collected shit, found an entire suitcase of books he knew, for sure, he had never seen in the loft. Their two-bedroom one-bathroom apt. in the East Village was much, much smaller than the loft, but it was theirs, and it was in New York. And they had a lot more room here for other things. Justin started looking at the covers, mainly fiction, books he'd read at some point or other, figuring Brian simply didn't have the same interests as he did in books. Or music. He grinned as he pulled out "American Psycho", kicking himself for thinking that Brian wasn't a fan of Patrick Bateman. He only had seen the movie half a million times. "He's fucking hot, that's why", upon asking Brian's reasoning for watching the movie twice in the same day, at different times on some cable network. Justin felt like he was sitting on a goldmine.

Walking in a few hours later, Brian discovered Justin reading on the floor, windows open, in an oversized PIFA t-shirt and some underwear. Brian discovered that in New York, he wasn't the same person.   
    He went over and sat on the window ledge, looking down at someone he had seen dozens and dozens of times, bangs in his face, reading something or other, and he finally saw what other guys must see in him, how appealing Justin might be, compared to the millions of other young men in the world. He was sweet, and tender, and extremely brilliant. But he never faltered in his beliefs about love, and that quality was what, Brian guessed, made Justin fall over and over for him throughout the turbulent times.

Justin looked up and smiled, sitting the cover of the book in front of his face. "I had no idea, Brian. We're practically the same person. How come you never told me?"

Brian looked away from his face to the cover of one of his many books that were kept hidden under his bed for so long, not wanting to turn his loft into a place that resembled a 'normal' life, one with bookcases and detergent and toilet paper. The loft was the kind of place he dreamt about, read about in architecture magazines after school, a fantasy that he never thought would happen. And when he bought it, he kept it minimalistic, straight and even lines, not even one picture of himself. Anywhere. When Justin was with him, really _with him_ , he relented, and stuck one of the two of them on the stainless steel fridge, the one he kept the water bottles and beer cans in. Here in New York, though, Brian envisioned the type of house that could be a home, that could be warm and inviting and feel like the two of them. He shrugged. "I guess it wasn't like one day I would come home and sit down and be like, 'So, Justin, let's discuss books', or some shit like that. You into it too?" He was still guarded, and still kind of unsure as to how he didn't fuck anything up in the past week, how they ordered pizza and, since they didn't have cable yet, had talked about normal things. Brian didn't think he could ever tell Justin this, but these few days, before they actually got settled in, were the best hours of his entire life.

Justin grinned and sat up, putting a hand on Brian's thigh. "I fucking _adore_ Bret Easton Ellis. You need to read "Choke" and "Lullabye" too if you haven't yet, although they're not by him. And "Fight Club"? Holy shit..." Brian listened to Justin talk and realized that, even though it took him so long to get his foot in the door, he didn't ever want this feeling of _home_ to go away.


End file.
